The White Mouse's crew leader struggled to believe Khan's warning. He couldn't even understand it in its entirety. Khan was a famous political figure, but the people in those distant reaches of the universe had bigger problems at hand, so they couldn't waste ti gossiping on the network.
Moreover, the leader was an ordinary second-level warrior with a limited understanding of the mana's limits. He could accept that Khan could destroy the colony with spells and other destructive abilities. His flashy landing had proved as much.
However, Khan seed to imply that his mood swings were enough to doom that place, which sounded beyond unreasonable.
The leader glanced at the bald ninth crew mber, who leaned toward his ear again. The man couldn't gather much information during that short wait, and part of it was classified due to Khan's status. Yet, the network was filled with rumors about Khan, and those stories were far from pleasant.
Truthfully, most of those stories were hard to believe, but the leader accepted one thing. Khan was no common fourth-level warrior. He already had a few soldiers in the fifth level in his kill count, enough for the middle-aged man to take the threat seriously.
"We wouldn't dare to anger you, Prince Khan," The leader eventually announced, wearing his rather disgusting smile again. "How can the White Mouse crew be of service?"
Khan made a point to look at the bigger building past the crew before inspecting the nine n again. He wanted them to know nothing could escape his eyes, but his following words remained relatively polite.
"Shall we talk sowhere else?" Khan suggested. "Maybe in front of a few drinks?"
"Apologies, Prince Khan," The leader said. "I'm afraid Blue Moon colony ran out of booze long ago. It's a pri article around these parts."
The leader was lying. Khan could see it as clear as day but still heaved a helpless sigh before disappearing in front of the incredulous crew. The nine n couldn't help but gasp and inspect their surroundings, and a few even looked at the do, wary that sothing catastrophic could happen. Yet, Khan reappeared in the next minute, carrying four bottles in his hands.
"Will these do?" Khan asked, showing the bottles.
The leader did his best to remain composed, but his crew mbers showed reactions anyone could read. Most were still shocked about Khan's speed and actions, but a few stared intensely at the booze, almost drooling at the idea of tasting it.
"You are too kind, Prince Khan," The leader announced, pointing to his right. "This way, please."
The leader glared at his companions, nodding a few tis to convey silent orders. The n scattered, with only the bald one and the first-level warrior with the tattoo on his neck remaining with him.
Khan feigned ignorance and followed the trio, entering the shabby house to his left. The place stank and dust and dirt filled its corners, but a decently preserved tal table stood at the center of its single room.
"Grab a chair for the Prince!" The leader ordered, trying to suppress his voice. "You know which chair."
The man with the neck tattoo seized a seemingly comfortable chair from the room's corner and brought it to the table. Still, dirt and stains tainted its surface, so the first-level warrior hesitated to leave it. He peeked at Khan before bending toward the seat, attempting to clean it with his sleeve.
The leader's order had obvious purposes. Khan only needed to glance at the room to notice that its few available seats were mostly broken or tilted.
So seats used to be chairs, but their backs had broken, leaving spiky extremities in their places. Others were stools that looked unable to stand straight. One even was a simple lump of tal with a vaguely square shape tilted sideways.
The only relatively comfortable seat was the chair the tattooed man had seized, and his care toward it revealed its importance. Even sothing as common as an intact seat was a luxury good in that environnt, but Khan didn't comnt on it. After all, he had lived in similar conditions for over a decade.
"I don't need any special treatnt," Khan exclaid, crossing the leader and the bald man to sit on the vaguely square stool. "I hope this is enough to show my good intentions."
Khan placed the bottles on the tal table, which released a clinking noise. The leader looked at them, cursing internally. He was trying to steer that troubleso situation in a specific direction, but Khan couldn't be controlled.
"Get so glasses," The leader ordered. "The good ones."
The bald man left the house while the leader approached the table. He glanced at the comfortable chair before opting for one of the titled stools. That put him on Khan's opposite side, but his gesture had anings both understood.
The bald man quickly returned with four tal cups still wet from the hurried washing, but the leader only glared at him after he put them on the table. The second-level warrior nodded at him before glancing at his tattooed companion, and both revealed annoyed expressions before leaving the tiny house.
"I'm sorry for my n's behavior, Prince Khan," The leader announced once the two remained alone. "They are hardworking but quite lacking in the manners departnt."
"I don't mind," Khan reassured, opening one of the bottles and standing up to pour two drinks. "What should I call you?"
"The na's Clifford," The leader said, seizing the cup that Khan pushed in his direction. "So, what is a man like you doing in this forgotten place?"
"I'm looking for information," Khan revealed. "I have no interest in questioning the nature of your activities here, but you must be quite knowledgeable about the area. I need that knowledge."
"We are simple pir-," Clifford stated before clearing his throat. "Workers. We go wherever we can earn a decent al. I'm not sure we can be of any use to a Prince."
"I think you can," Khan declared. "Besides, I'll have to fly through these routes for a while, and I'd rather not step on anyone's toes."
The leader's pale, bony face turned slightly grim. Khan had already caused quite the ruckus during his arrival to Blue Moon, so Clifford could imagine how troubleso having him flying around the area could be. Much converged on the colony, and Khan's presence could hinder most deals and profits.
"If it's not too presumptuous," Clifford exclaid. "May I know what you are looking for, Prince Khan? I might be able to help you better that way."
"You'd also be able to sell the information," Khan uttered, calmly sipping from his cup. "But we are being nice and reasonable, aren't we?"
Clifford froze. Khan had simply looked at him, but his survival instincts started screaming. Still, Clifford squeezed his cup and smiled, doing his best to appear amiable.
"Of course, Prince Khan," Clifford responded. "It was rely a suggestion."
"Let it be the last," Khan ordered. "It will be, one way or another."
Clifford couldn't help but gulp, hiding his reaction behind his drink. He had yet to take a single sip from the cup, and that tense situation continued to stop him. Sothing told him he had to receive Khan's explicit permission before tasting his booze.
"Still," Khan continued. "I'll try to be considerate and reasonable. You can keep so of your secrets, but I need to know anything related to the Nak."
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